


His Diary

by sonictrowel



Series: Long Night in the Blue House [31]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Mush, Fluff and Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 12:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10719546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonictrowel/pseuds/sonictrowel
Summary: “Have you been watching me sleep again?” she asked through a yawn.“No,” he said happily, entirely unconvincing.  He reached behind him in what she supposed he thought was a subtle manner and his sonic buzzed, and the TARDIS began quietly playing a late-Mediaeval instrumental rendition of God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen.She tried to glare at him but he was smiling at her like, well, a kid on Christmas, and it was infectious.  She did love that he was a grownup now, but above all she loved that he was her Doctor, and so many things never changed.





	His Diary

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you everyone for reading and commenting on this story, you make my day so very happy!! 
> 
> So I'm dragging my feet on the plot because, though this officially went AU when I gave them a kid with a name and personality, unless I am actually psychic, I'd like to tie it into the ongoing series, and I have to wait and see where that goes. Or else end up in another case of "oh Nardole's really a cyborg, isn't he."
> 
> But that doesn't mean there won't be fluff to hold us over in the meantime :)

 

 

Christmases on Darillium were always special for River and the Doctor.  Yes, it marked another year passing, another year less still ahead of them.  But they’d figured out early on that it was important to make the day as happy as possible for just that reason; to fill up all the quiet moments with celebrating the life they had there together, instead of focussing on the passage of time.  Every year they dined on the balcony at the Towers for dinner, but in the morning, they enjoyed a more private celebration.

River woke to an unusually bright room: the lamps weren’t on, but a fire was crackling in the hearth, and the Doctor had somehow managed to weave strands of fairy lights through the bars of the headboard without waking her.  He was grinning at her as she rubbed her eyes.

“Have you been watching me sleep again?” she asked through a yawn.

“No,” he said happily, entirely unconvincing.  He reached behind him in what she supposed he thought was a subtle manner and his sonic buzzed, and the TARDIS began quietly playing a late-Mediaeval instrumental rendition of _God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen_.

She tried to glare at him but he was smiling at her like, well, a kid on Christmas, and it was infectious.  She did love that he was a grownup now, but above all she loved that he was her Doctor, and so many things never changed.  She turned onto her side and reached out for him and he eagerly leaned into her arms, pressing his cheek against hers and his lips to her ear as they held each other close.

“Happy Christmas,” he said in that warm, rumbling voice that made her insides melt.

“Happy Christmas, darling,” River replied, smiling to herself over his shoulder.

“I’ve made breakfast, but it’s in the samey cabinet, so there’s no hurry.”

“Why,” she said, turning her face to leave a lingering kiss on his jaw, “did you have other plans?”

His hands roamed over her back, rubbing in all the right places, and she moaned.

“Whatever you like, dear,” he said sweetly.

“I’d definitely like you to continue with that,” she sighed.

He kissed her cheek enthusiastically and pulled away, sitting up and rolling her onto her stomach for better access.

“You do spoil me,” River mumbled, her eyes closed and her face smushed into her pillow as he worked his way up her back and slowly turned her to putty in his hands.

“Good,” the Doctor replied.

Of course, eventually her vest was getting in the way of a proper massage technique, so naturally it had to go.  When she was so thoroughly relaxed under the firm pressure of his fingers that her body was like jelly, she felt his lips on her shoulder.  Slowly, patiently, he began to cover every inch of her skin with soft kisses.  Her breath came faster as the heat of his mouth sent sparks rushing along her spine, and she moaned into her pillow.

The Doctor’s hands moved to her waist, just beginning to nudge her to the side, and River immediately turned onto her back to look up at him.  His wild silver hair hung over his face, still disheveled from sleep, and his bright eyes were soft and hooded.  The tender smile on his lips as he crawled over her was such a beautiful thing, she could still scarcely believe she was able to see it every day, let alone be the one to inspire it.

They were drawn together; a magnetic force, irresistible as always.  Their lips met, and god, she really could kiss him forever.  She could drown in the luscious warmth of his mouth, soft and open and moving on hers with rapt, unhurried care.  Her heart swelled and her stomach fluttered and a wave of heat bloomed in her, deep and low.  His hands were all over her, their bodies naturally falling into rhythm in time with their entwined tongues, hips rolling and hands grasping, pressing and pulling each other closer.

They shed the rest of their clothing, and the Doctor pulled the covers up around them.  Tucked away from the world, nestled in their bed and pinned skin-to-skin beneath the warm weight of him, River sighed in contentment.  She reached up and buried her hands in his hopelessly mussed hair.  Their dark, cosy hideaway was pierced only by the glow of the fairy lights woven through the headboard above her.  Glittering spots of gold reflected in his blue eyes as her fingers combed the fringe back from his face.

“I don’t know how you do it,” the Doctor said as he carefully tucked a curl behind her ear.

She tilted her head to nuzzle her cheek against his hand as she watched him quizzically.

“All these years, all the damn time— I’m happy.  You make it so easy.”  The little lines around his eyes creased as his soft smile spread, his face radiant with affection.  “And I can _always_ find something to complain about.  It's the accent.  But everything’s just... right, when you’re here.”

“Oh, sweetie,” River whispered, her voice choked around the lump in her throat even as she smiled at him.  “Me too.”  

“I love you so very much, River.”  He breathed it like a sweet secret into her ear, leaning forward and brushing his lips over her cheek.   She took his face in her slightly trembling hands and guided his mouth back to hers.  

It was suddenly unacceptable to River that any space remained between them.  She trailed her fingers along his throat, across his shoulders, skimming his ribs and stomach and hips, until her hand finally slipped between their bodies.  The Doctor groaned into her mouth as she hooked her ankles around his lower back and guided him into her.  

It was bliss from the very first instant, every inch of contact lighting up her muscles and nerves with sweet warmth as she tilted her hips to take him in deeper.  He kissed her softly as they began to rock together, their lips meeting again and again, exchanging the same warm air as they gasped for breath between kisses.  His tongue reached out to taste her too briefly, teasing, before he broke away, and she pulled his lower lip between her teeth in retaliation.  His eyes narrowed as he smiled at her, thrusting into her hard and making her cry out in pleasure.

“Hate you,” River moaned weakly.  

The Doctor only chuckled in response and kissed her again—there was really no need to say it while she was enthusiastically demonstrating how _very_ much she didn’t.  He pressed his forehead to hers, sparking the mental link that sent a tide of shared emotion and sensation rushing back and forth between them.  Wrapped up in each other, in their own intimate bubble of warmth in the dim, twinkling golden light as the exquisite friction built between them, River felt she was glowing from the inside out.  Like regeneration, but with overwhelming love and pleasure shining through her, swallowing up any hint of pain.

The Doctor pressed deep and held there, circling his hips against her.  River gasped, her breath coming out in soft moans as she threw her head back on her pillow and dug her heels into his arse, holding him to her tightly.  He let out a low laugh as he kissed a trail along her throat and across her chest, reaching up to cup her breast closer to his lips.  River nearly laughed herself as she distantly noticed that _Ave Maria_ was now playing in the background, but at the soft warmth of his open lips on her, she was too far gone.  The knot of heat in her centre unfolded all at once, rushing through her body as she writhed and shouted, gripping the sheets in her fists.  

The Doctor’s breathing was ragged as River shuddered and squeezed her thighs tight around his waist.  He kissed her with renewed passion, urgent and deep, and began push into her again with strong, measured strokes, sending sweet jolts through her overly-sensitive nerves as her muscles fluttered and pulsed around him.  She’d not even come down from her high before he was building her up to another, and she was caught up in a rolling swell of ecstasy that crashed over her again and again.

By the time they finally collapsed, spent and gasping and shaking, River had lost all sense of time; of everything but the wonderful man in her arms, how very desperately she loved him, and the frankly miraculous way he made her feel.  She wondered, sometimes— maybe it was some sort of chemical reaction because of the Time Lord DNA.  Maybe it was just having the better part of two centuries’ experience with shagging her, though it had seemed to come quite naturally from the start.  Either way, she was a very lucky girl.

The Doctor, sprawled unceremoniously where he had flopped down on top of her, let out a smugly satisfied “hmf” sound and lazily kissed her chest.

“Quit listening, you,” she chastised half-heartedly, tugging on his hair before she returned to stroking her fingers through it soothingly.

He said nothing, just planted another messy kiss on the nearest bit of her skin.

___

Nardole joined them for breakfast, Christmas crackers, and unwrapping gifts.

River always had trouble with the paper crowns.  Too much hair.

When they were seated on the rug in the lounge in front of the tree and the fire, the Doctor passed a box to her, leaning in to give her a kiss as he placed it in her hands.  She had a hard time reading the expression on his face as he pulled away, and she looked curiously from him to the box.  He just nodded his head in her direction in encouragement.

Inside, folded in red tissue, was an old, well-worn book, dark blue, with three panels embossed across the cover and a round silver insignia bearing the swirling Seal of Rassilon embedded in the centre.

“Your diary?” she whispered, her wide eyes meeting his.

The corners of his lips just barely turned up into a smile as he shrugged.  “I’ve run out of pages.  Starting a new one.  That does happen, you know.”

River blinked back tears as his soft smile grew.  She’d stopped writing in her usual diary years ago and started a new volume just for their life on Darillium, because there really wasn’t room enough for twenty-four years of joy in the pages she had remaining.  But she’d been looking at it as simply an expanded chapter; stolen time that fit into a single night, but still before the same looming end.

The Doctor took her hand in his and squeezed it.  “Thought there might be some things in there you’d enjoy reading.”

“Oh, will I?” she asked breathlessly.

The Doctor lifted her hand to his lips.  River pulled him to her and sighed into another long, soft kiss, using the pause to try to regain her composure.  When they parted, Nardole cleared his throat.

“Oh, right,” she muttered, blinking to clear her eyes.  Nardole got to his feet and ran off to his room.

“We’ve got a gift for you, darling— Nardole’s been, ah, keeping an eye on it for me,” River said.  “I know you haven’t gone in for this sort of thing, usually, for obvious reasons, but I thought, since we’re doing ‘domestic’... well, I just had a feeling.”

“But if you don’t have a feeling, that’s alright, and I’ll take care of it,” Nardole added as he returned with a box in his hands.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow and looked back and forth between the two of them.  “Okaay…” he said expectantly.

Nardole leaned down and carefully placed the box into his hands.  With another curious glance at River, the Doctor removed the lid.

River bit her lip as she watched his eyebrows raise and his mouth relax in surprise.  A high-pitched little squeal came from the box.

“We were thinking of calling him Vincent, if that’s not too… um, something,” River said, a bit nervously.

The Doctor carefully reached into the box and removed the squealing little ginger and white kitten.  River glanced at Nardole and they both looked back to the Doctor.  His eyes were slightly wide but his face betrayed no clear emotion as he settled the little creature in his palms.  It began to emit a chirruping purr that sounded far too loud to be coming from its tiny body.

“Well?” said Nardole.

The Doctor glanced up at him sharply, his eyebrows drawn down in a way that River recognised as irritation masking embarrassment.  “Well what?” he groused, looking thoroughly cross now as he held the kitten against his chest.  “You can’t have him back.”

River grinned.

___

Nardole had the evening off to babysit while they went to their dinner at the Towers.  It had been decided that Vincent would continue to spend his nights with Nardole while he was young and needed supervision; there was just something about speaking Cat that made having one watch you in bed a bit awkward.

The Doctor was, however, loath to hand him over.

River brought the Doctor’s diary with her when they slipped into the sheets after dinner.

“Would you read to me?” she asked, feeling almost shy.  He had plenty of others, but this one was _their_ diary.  She was sure if he was giving it to her, there were no spoilers written down, but opening it herself still seemed a little daunting.

He took the book from her and kissed her forehead.  “What do you want to hear, sweetheart?”

“Your choice,” she said.

The Doctor flipped through the book and smiled wistfully as he landed on a page about a third of the way in.  He reached an arm around River and pulled her into his side, and she rested her head on his chest.  When she glanced up at the page, she recognised Babyface’s tight, cramped scrawl, and a sketch of a towering tree emerging from a mountain in the middle of an ocean.

“Area 52.  Never quite thought I’d say this— except, of course, that I’ve sort of known from the moment I met her,” he read, his voice low and just the slightest bit raspy, “but I’m married.  I’ve finally married my River.  She stopped all of time to save me, and I realised, eventually, what an idiot I’ve been.  And now she’s gone to Stormcage for killing me, even though she’s only ever saved my life.”

“Well, _technically…”_  River interjected, scrunching up her nose in a regretful cringe.

“Hush,” the Doctor said, giving her a scolding smile and resuming his reading.  

“But it’s just the beginning for us.  I’ll never deserve her, but I am sure as hell going to try.  I’m taking her— _my wife!_  I’m taking my wife to Calderon Beta tonight, for the start of our honeymoon.  Can’t think of a more beautiful moment in all of time and space to show her.  I hope she loves it.  I hope she knows.”

“I did know.  You told me again that night,” River said softly, smiling up at him.

“Should have done a lot more often,” the Doctor replied.

“You’ve more than made up for the ones you missed, I think.”

“Told you I’d keep telling you til you were sick of hearing it.  Sick of it yet?” he asked, looking fondly down at her.

“Never.”

“Then I haven’t,” he said, setting the book aside and leaning over her.  He raised her chin and kissed her softly.  “Love you,” he whispered, before moving his lips to her throat.  “Love you, love you, love you, love you.”

River’s heart fluttered and tears pricked her eyes as she threw her arm around his neck and he brought his lips back to hers.

“Don’t suppose there’s any chance you wrote a nice, _detailed_ follow-up entry to that one, mmm?” she asked when they broke apart and settled comfortably into each other’s arms again.

The Doctor opened the diary by the ribbon bookmark and turned to the next page.  “From Bow Tie, that young?  You really think so?”

“A girl can dream,” she replied, sticking her tongue out at him.

He smirked as he began to read again.  “Being married is very nice.  Being married _to River_ is very nice.  She is lovely and perfect and soft and— something’s scribbled out here.”  His grin spread as he continued reading.  “I should have done this ages ago.  I think we need to make quite a few more stops on our honeymoon.  No rush to get back to anything; I’m dead and prison’s not going anywhere.”

“Translation: my unbearably sexy wife shagged my brains out and I am still too embarrassed to just take her to bed for a month straight so instead I am going to take her on a tour of the universe and we will just happen to shag in every location,” River said matter-of-factly.

“See, you speak perfect Bow Tie.  Don’t know how you missed all the rest of it,” the Doctor said.

“Tell me again?” she asked quietly.

The Doctor lowered his face to hers, their lips a breath apart, and whispered “I love you.”  River’s response was muffled into his mouth.

___

When River woke on Boxing Day the Doctor was curled around her, and he had re-dressed in the night, which likely meant he’d been up already and come back to bed when he missed her.  Then she noticed the little marmalade-orange bundle of fur tucked between her chest and his arm, sleeping as soundly as her husband.  She decided sleeping a little longer was a good plan.


End file.
